


Of Truth and Consequences

by slimandalittlebitfoxy



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Journalism, Obitine, Politics, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-20 12:15:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17622209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slimandalittlebitfoxy/pseuds/slimandalittlebitfoxy
Summary: Ben Kenobi is an empathetic budding journalist at a growing news outlet called The Order. When he and his mentor, Qui Jinn, get invited to interview the endangered Duchess of a small country in Europe called Mandalore with hopes of a big promotion, he finds much more than a hot news story.DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, I just desperately want them to be happy.





	1. Ben Kenobi: Apprentice Journalist Extraordinaire

**Author's Note:**

> Character tags added for later chapters. Will be updating with a new chapter at least once a week, if not more often - unsure of length right now.

Ben Kenobi was a man of principle, so he would say. Really, he was more a man of habit.

He woke up every morning at the same time, he brushed his teeth the same way every day, placing the toothpaste exactly in the same position, and was compulsively clean-shaven. He made his coffee with a teaspoon of sugar and a tablespoon of cream and enjoyed it over perusing NPR on his laptop at his kitchen table. Before leaving his neatly-kept apartment, he straightened the collar of one of the button-ups he always wore in the mirror on the wall near his front door as if it were a ritual, grabbed his wallet off the tray on the end table beneath it, and grabbed his keys off the hook on the wall, labelled “KEYS”—there were three hooks, though never any other keys were hung there.

If asked, Ben would describe himself as an introverted “career man”. In reality, he was a little lonely.

He was a man that loved his job, that was certain. He was a journalist—a good one, too, for a small, liberal-minded news website that was quickly gaining momentum with the general public. He had been working for _The Order_ for a while, but the upper management was very particular about who won tenure. They were even particular about who they hired on as interns—their hiring process seemed to hone in not just on education, but natural talent, awareness, and ability to read people. Luckily, Ben happened to have quite a knack for all three—he always had seemed to be able to sense emotion and truthfulness in other people, and perhaps that was why journalist work spoke to him so much. _The Order_ could not have been a better fit, as they were dedicated to honesty and helping inform their audiences of what was truly going on in the world—and there was certainly a lot going on, with a war raging across several nations. His mentor, Qui Jinn, had so far done an excellent job training him to become a full-fledged reporter. Wherever the older man went, Ben was also invited, upon Qui’s insistence. His job gave him the opportunity to travel all over the world several months out of the year. There was always some anxiety that came with the travels—he was, indeed, a man of habit, but there was something about waking up in a place halfway across the world that was exhilarating to him. He was a man of habit, yes, but he was unafraid to push his comfort levels for the greater good.

He had an upcoming trip to a province in Europe that he had never been to, and barely ever heard of—a place called Mandalore. He had done some research on the area, but surprisingly little information was available, beyond incredibly biased articles bashing the Duchess that ruled there. He would begin to pack later in the evening and they would depart tomorrow. The government was experiencing some infrastructure problems—a civil war was brewing. The young Duchess was under serious scrutiny and potential attack, surrounded by guards at all hours at an undisclosed location. He and Qui, as two of the most trusted journalists at _The Order_ , were the ideal choice to be in and out as discreetly, respectfully, and with as much information as they could possibly gather. It didn’t hurt that they had also had extensive self-defense training—always an advantage when going into potentially dangerous territory. They were to interview the Duchess of the nation—it would be the biggest story _The Order_ had ever had exclusive access too. Apparently, the Duchess was somewhat familiar with the steadily popularizing news outlet’s work and appreciated their dedication to facts. If the details of the story were to inevitably break, she apparently trusted _The Order_ to do it right.

“If all goes well on this trip, we can both expect great things upon our return,” Qui said, stirring his coffee. Ben had just arrived at the office and had headed to the breakroom for one more small cup of coffee. He had been up uncharacteristically late, mulling over the events of tomorrow. There was a lot of pressure on him, still technically a trainee despite his years of service, to do well. “Perhaps you’ll even be promoted. I believe you’re ready—and now, everyone else will too.”

It wasn’t like Ben had hecklers among his coworkers, but he was still a bit wet around the ears compared to most—he had worked very hard to get where he was, coming from almost nothing. Qui had essentially become a father figure to Ben over the past few years. “I have full confidence this will be a successful mission,” Ben murmured, stirring in his sugar and cream. It wasn’t the brand of cream he preferred, but it would do. He had to fight off the lethargy somehow.

Qui took a sip from his mug, a look of concern dampening his chiseled features. “That doesn’t sound like full confidence.”

“Fake it ‘til you feel it, Master Jinn.” Ben met his counterpart’s concern with a smirk, willing the doubt from his voice. Qui hated when he called him that. _It makes me feel old_ , he would say.

Qui scoffed and returned the joke. “I’ve taught you well, my young Apprentice.” With that, he retreated from the break room to meet with upper management and go over the details of their trip once again. Today, like on almost any other day, Ben would be responsible for editing. He was so tired of editing, particularly because very few mistakes were made for him to correct to begin with, and wondered if this time next week, someone else might be editing his work instead.

“Neither of us are to be aware of where the Duchess is being hidden. We will be blindfolded and driven to the secure location by a troupe of her body guards. Our flight departure has been changed, so we must be at the airport by five in the morning. That should put us arriving during afternoon traffic, with the time change. Easier to hide among the numerous cars that will be on the road and more difficult to track.” Ben struggled to stifle a groan at the thought of waking up so early—he was already behind, and he never had much luck sleeping on flights. Qui gave him a hearty pat on the back. “Don’t worry, we will at least have the evening to catch up. Our meeting with the Duchess is not scheduled until the next day. Get home and get some rest.”

Ben heard Qui bid farewell to a few more people in the office, who wished him luck and safe travels, as he shut down his desktop and surveyed his desk to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. He wouldn’t be back at this desk until Monday—five days from now. He noted how impersonal the desk looked and felt—no photos of family, friends, or pets—though not unlike his office mates’. The employees of _The Order_ tended to not have emotional connections to others—being a reporter in this day and age was a dangerous game to be playing. He had certainly seen a few of his coworkers lose their lives getting a little too close in their line of duty, and some even disappeared, their absences shrouded in mystery. The fallout that was suffered by their loved ones was something Ben would never want to be subjected to. For this reason, many of them were estranged from their immediate families, never married, and certainly never had children. Many wouldn’t even dare to adopt a cat or a dog—they were often travelling and wouldn’t have someone to care for the animal if they never came back. Feelings of attachment were proven throughout history to shake judgement, to cause people to stray from the truth and their responsibilities. The risk of travelling to war-torn countries, ravaged battlegrounds, and locales plagued with sickness was easier to take on when you didn’t have anything back home to lose.

Ben felt that this was his calling, though. It was for the greater good and going to bed alone for the foreseeable future was a small sacrifice to be made in return for making real change.

Despite that, his bed had never felt larger as he lay awake watching his alarm clock creep into the new day.

He blinked awake a few hours later, the incessant alarm rattling him out of his tense slumber. He switched it off, as he was not the type of man to need a snooze button, and began to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He had a strange dream that night—couldn’t quite pin down what happened, but he woke up sad. Very, very sad.

Ben quickly shook this feeling after the first few sips of coffee cleared his sleepy haze. His luggage was stacked neatly by the front door. Within the next hour, he would be on his way to Mandalore to interview a Duchess. The excitement of it all hadn’t set in just yet—his mind was still being assaulted with apprehensive thoughts about how this could make or break his career.


	2. The Duchess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Duchess is not quite what Ben was expecting.

Qui donned a pair of sunglasses as they exited the airport, being escorted by some plainclothes body guards. His long, brown hair was tied up in a knot, as usual, and his beard was neatly groomed. Almost made Ben want to grow one—perhaps one day. The duo had landed in the late afternoon. The sun shone brightly in the sky, warming their skin, while the autumn winds created a beautifully ideal day for their expedition into what Ben decided must be the outskirts of the Mandalorian countryside—too bad they would not be able to look out the window and admire the color-changing scenery.

The ride felt like it took hours, and it certainly may have. There was not much conversation to be had—Ben felt himself doze off once or twice, shaking himself awake when he noticed to not to appear unprofessional. He was certain that Qui was meditating—his elder tended to do so at every given opportunity. Ben had tried it several times, but he never could get the hang of clearing his thoughts. His young mind was always racing, beneath what he felt, and usually was, a collected exterior. One thing was certain—he could not wait to lay down in his guest quarters and sleep off the flight and the time change. When he felt the car lurch to a complete stop, then felt the rumble of the engine dissipate, his legs tingled with urgency to hit solid ground again. When he was given the go-ahead to remove his blindfold, what awaited him was quite different, as he was used to the concrete and bustle of city life in his day-to-day.

They were in the middle of a lush forest. It was dark, so it must have indeed taken several hours to arrive. The sky was mostly shrouded in a thick canopy of leaves. Light from a few torches glowing around the camp bounced off the greenery. The camp was in a clearing, a large cabin at the center seemed to be a permanent structure. The main building was large and well-constructed, with a porch area. There were several less-permanent looking structures located in the front of the building—likely to house some of the backup bodyguards that were present. There was a stream that trickled into a large, clear pool of water. It would be a great place to get away to, under better circumstances. It appeared to be what was once a vacation home for the royal family. The Duchess was certainly inside.

Qui and Ben were quietly greeted by the guards on their way in. It didn’t seem like any of the people they had met so far along the way were fans of chit-chat, which was quite alright with Ben—he had never been a fan. As they crossed the threshold of the lushly decorated home, they noted some shouting from one of the rooms at the back, down a hallway that was at the other end of the vast living area and past the kitchen.

“If you don’t let me out of this room, I swear to the gods I will RUIN you—” The voice sounded to be coming from the mouth of an indignant young woman. Qui and Ben listened on as nonchalantly as they could manage. Their escort darted to the back of the home, reaching for the door knob. Before he could grasp it, the door flung wide open and indeed, a young woman pushed past him. The color drained from his face as he marched dutifully behind her. The guard that must have been in the room with the woman, who both Ben and Qui had determined had to be the Duchess, slunk quietly behind them.

Ben first noticed how elegant the lady was. She was adorned from head to toe in a lovely shade of turquoise that complimented her alabaster complexion. Her lips were full, though her features were sharp. Her cheeks were, at that moment, flushed with a rosy hue. Her blue eyes were striking against the color of her dress, and her blonde hair was done up in an intricate knot, making it impossible to judge how long it was. The furrow in her brow and the sneer on her lips melted away when she noticed her guests had already been invited inside. Her intimidating presence was replaced by the collected energy of a professional diplomat. The change was somehow both calculated and natural. “Greetings, gentleman. You must be Mr. Jinn and Mr. Kenobi.” The men nodded, humbled by the woman’s presence. Ben wondered if it was customary to bow to a Duchess on the run. He had never met someone he had to think about bowing to. “As I’m sure you were instructed, our meeting is not technically scheduled until tomorrow. However, I’ve gotten dreadfully sick of being around this boring, but admittedly dutiful lot. I would like to enjoy a dinner with you both, if that suits you. You must be famished after your travels, then you’ll be able to enjoy a good night’s rest with a full belly.”

“That sounds delightful, Your Grace.” Qui gave her a charming grin. Ben nodded his agreeance.

The Duchess replied with a short laugh. “Please, you can call me Satine. I’m not much of a Grace of anything at the moment.” Her voice was jesting, yet her eyes looked weary. “But that is a conversation for tomorrow. Tonight, we drink, eat, and enjoy the company of new friends.”

For the first time, Ben considered the Duchess as a person—not just a story that he could use as a personal stepstool for promotion. She was but a young woman, roughly the same age as him, who was the leader of a nation riddled with a dangerous amount of political opposition. Opposition that wanted her dead for, from his understanding, clinging to peace and neutrality as desperately as she could. _How could anyone want to kill her?_ He stole short glances across the dinner table. She really was quite beautiful, and from what he had gathered already, full of fascinating contradictions that he couldn’t wait to delve into in the morning.

Qui carried most of the conversation through dinner. Ben was both too tired and too nervous to add much to the conversation. They exchanged questions about the cultural differences between Mandalore and the United States, as well as a few laughs over the ones they felt were absurd. At one point, Satine broke out a bottle of wine. She poured them all a glass and spoke of how she was a wine connoisseur of sorts—the one she cracked open was one of her favorites.

“It’s a special occasion—I haven’t had regular human contact in months.” Resentment lived inside the hollow laugh that followed.

“Cheers to that.” Ben raised his glass and took a sip. It was fine wine, indeed. A couple glasses later, his head was swimming. He did not drink very often, and it was quite a potent drink. His gaze began to linger a little longer on the Duchess, and thoughts he knew he shouldn’t be having started to flirt with his consciousness. She was quite a force to be reckoned with, he could tell. She was unafraid to challenge their opinions—and Ben was unafraid to challenge hers, a few glasses in. He noted that she found it alluring as well. Her eyes danced with a certain fire that was absent before the wine emboldened him to contribute more to their discussion. Qui was happy enough to sit back, sip his drink, and silently observe their interactions.

“Perhaps we should move to bed.” Qui gave Ben a fatherly pat on the shoulder as the night deepened outside, stirring him from his more intrusive thoughts.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, of course. It is getting late.” The mention of bed sparked the exhaustion in Ben’s muscles. “Lovely wine and lovely conversation with a lovely woman is difficult to pull away from, but rest is calling.”

His mentor shot him an almost undetectable look, but Ben knew him well enough to catch it— _careful, boy._ Ben felt an immediate panic at what he had said, but the Duchess seemed to be no more or less than flattered. It was not the first or, Ben was sure, the last time she would be described in such a fashion.

“Thank you both for the enthralling conversation. You will each have your own private quarters, of course.” Satine motioned to one of the guards, posted by the front door. “Please escort Mr. Jinn and Mr. Kenobi to their rooms. Goodnight, gentlemen.” The guard waited for Qui and Ben to move to follow him. They bid each other goodnight as they parted ways. Ben noticed that his bag had already been placed in the room. The room was not huge, but it was decently sized. There was a queen bed in the center, spread with a plush duvet. There were some gaudy decorations on the wall—apparently the Mandalorian royalty, at least, were fans of excess. Usually he was sure to unpack and organize his possessions before falling asleep his first night in a new location, but he simply didn’t have the energy this go around, and the bed looked far too comfortable.

Ben awoke a few hours later with a thirst that was burning of a thousand suns. He foolishly had not brought a glass of water with him to bed—he was always sure to bring a glass of water to bed, particularly when he had had a few drinks. Peeling himself from the lush comfort of the mattress, he guided himself to the door of his room in the moonlight that was filtering in through the blinds. A guard was diligently posted at the room he had seen Satine emerge from earlier in the evening.

He prepared himself a glass of water, then decided it would be the perfect time to go and quietly admire his change of scenery. He nodded to the guard as he and his glass of water exited through the back door at the end of the hall. It opened to another porch area, complete with seating. The stream ran behind the house as well. There were no guards posted on the back side of the building. He settled into a comfortable armchair and closed his eyes, breathing in the crisp, autumn air and reveling in the stillness of the night. His eyes snapped open when he heard a shuffle to his right. He was not alone.

Satine Kryze had her back turned to him. She was dressed in a silk nightgown and robe, a softer shade of blue than she was wearing earlier. A cigarette dangled from two of her long, dainty fingers. Her blonde hair flowed to her waist, falling in gentle waves from being tied up presumably all day. She had heard him come outside, of course—he was light on his feet, but not that light. She simply didn’t care whether he was present or not. Ben was debating whether he wanted to say anything to her, when she began engaging him first. “If we could speak off the record for a moment, what is your opinion on my philosophies?”

Ben was surprised by the question. _Why would she possibly care about my opinion?_ “How do you mean, Duchess—I mean, Satine?” He fumbled over the correction.

“You are undoubtedly familiar with my stances, at least in a broad sense, and the trouble it’s causing. You don’t seem like a man that would travel this far without doing his research.”

She was right—he had done his homework, and many of the articles he had read were not very kind to her. She was constantly criticized by the media for not getting involved in the war that was raging around all of them, not doing more to protect her people from the greatest threat of all. He debated whether he should give his honest opinion or take the easier route and agree with her style of governing. From what he had seen, he was sure that she would be able to tell if he was lying. “Well, in my humble opinion, I don’t believe that the decisions you’re making in concern to your people are the most responsible on a global scale.”

She turned to face him. It was dark, but there was just enough light that he noticed the glassiness of her eyes—she must have shed some tears at some point in the night. “That’s the thing, Mr. Kenobi—”

“Please, call me Ben.”

“Well, Ben, I don’t give a good god _damn_ about the global scale, and it is not _my_ responsibility to do so.” She took another drag off her cigarette and let the smoke out on a slow exhale. Ben couldn’t help but find the image shamefully erotic—a woman of such elegance and power cursing in a silk nightgown with a cigarette in her hand, unabashedly disagreeing with him. “What I _am_ responsible for is ensuring that the men, women, and children of Mandalore can lay down at night knowing they’re safe, and that they won’t lose their fathers, brothers, mothers, and sisters to a draft in a fight that the _good guys_ do not appear set up to win. Remaining neutral, in the case of complete disaster, is the only way to preserve our lives if we happen to choose the wrong side.”

Ben contemplated this for a moment. “Mandalore, from my understanding, trains exceptionally good warriors. Your people have a talent for combat. The fight for peace is worth sacrificing for.”

“My people are trained to defend, not fight in other people’s wars,” Satine huffed. “Fight for peace? What a pathetic contradiction.”

“Those that do not stand up for what is right are part of what is wrong.” Ben felt himself begin to flush. Their beliefs truly were contradictory—not often did someone make him feel so flustered.

“Bold of you to say that when a pen is your greatest weapon.”

Ben was nearly speechless. Who was she to begin making assumptions about him? He had combat training—Qui had encouraged it, as he insisted it would be useful one day. He had yet to use it, but he was sure he was courageous enough to do so under the right—or perhaps wrong—circumstances. He found himself rising on the defensive. “At least my ideals don’t have me on the run from my own people.”

This struck a painful chord with the young woman standing across from him. She once again turned away, taking one more drag before flicking the butt off the porch railing. “You men are all the same. Fuck off.”

“You’re the one that asked for my opinion—do you speak to all of your advisors in the same fashion?” He could almost physically feel her eye roll. He stood and approached her. “You have a lot to learn about what’s truly going on out there. Innocent people, just like your men, women, and children, are being slaughtered on the daily.”

From the angle he was standing on it, he noticed a wet streak rolling down her cheek. She didn’t seem to him to be the type of woman to often bare her emotions. “If given the chance to avoid those people being slaughtered, what would you do?”

“Staying out of the fight does not guarantee that your country will remain untargeted.”

“No, but the odds are increased in our favor.” She sighed, the fight seeming to leave her body. She seemed a decade older. “It’s all a gamble. One choice, I am willfully sending my people to slaughter. The other—at least I did what I could to keep them out of danger.”

Ben contemplated her words for a moment. “Perhaps there is a third choice. Your finest volunteers help turn the tide. You lose some, but not all. By choosing to stay out of the fight, you are not keeping them out of danger. Every person in every nation is in danger, more so as each day passes. If your people are willing to take the risk, to make the sacrifice, why not let them?”

“Societies would not need leaders if they always made choices that were in their best interests.”

“And often enough, leaders make choices that harm their people,” Ben countered.

“You will never truly understand the burden that I bear.” Her voice was steel. Any emotional vulnerability was wiped away with the silky sleeve of her robe and a short sniffle.

Ben tried to imagine himself in her position—a man his age responsible for thousands of lives. Even beginning to try to put himself in her shoes was an impossible task. “I apologize if I overstepped my bounds. I can tell you are a strong leader with strong conviction and a strong personal code of ethics. I can’t fathom what it must feel like to have so many people relying on you to make the right decision. I wish you the best of luck determining what that might be.”

She gave him a curt nod, and met his eyes for the first time during their conversation. He could sense a number of conflicting emotions within her—any one of them difficult to pin down. Rarely had someone confused him to such an extent. “I should not have reacted is such an undignified manner. I can sense that you are a man of principle, so I trust that this conversation will be kept between us.”

Ben nodded back, unknowingly agreeing to keep but the first of many secrets that they would eventually share. He watched on as she expertly climbed back through the open window to her room, surely to remain undetected by the guard that was supposed to be keeping tabs on her.


	3. Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben, Qui, and Satine enjoy a cup of coffee before they begin the interview, but then there's a change of plans.

Satine Kryze was not the type of woman to cry—not in private, and certainly not in front of a stranger.

She had just so few people to talk to, and even fewer that would care to listen. She was not allowed to make phone calls, for fear that the signal would be tracked. Three of the greatest bounty hunters that money could buy were hot on her tracks. The last time she had seen her sister was months ago—and even then, it had been a dangerous meeting. There was something about Ben Kenobi, though, that made her feel—well, just _feel_.

_The Order_ had been duly investigated before he and Qui Jinn had been invited to her current safe haven. Both men had been extensively trained in self-defense and had two of the cleanest backgrounds the private investigators had ever seen. Squeaky clean. There couldn’t have been two more perfect candidates to report on her complex story. Though Ben accused her of not being aware, in reality, she was painfully aware. She had little more to do than read, so read she did—seeking something, anything that would help her choose the right path. _The Order_ was one of her favorite publications—their dedication to confronting stories at the source was something to be admired, which was rare to find in the media. Often it was one source playing off another off another, a terrible game of telephone where the facts had long been weeded out. If it weren’t for people like Qui and Ben, stories like hers would never see the light of day—not truthfully, anyway. Perhaps her message of peace—pure peace, not _fighting for peace_ —would be well-received. And perhaps it would be received as apathetic cruelty. She was ready to take on _those_ odds, at least.

She put on some of her more formal regalia, though not extravagant enough to make her seem unrelatable—a classy jumpsuit. She had noticed Qui brought a camera bag with him—there would certainly be a few photos taken. She admired herself in the mirror as she braided her hair. She was not necessarily a vain woman, but she did exude a refined confidence that she even allowed herself to admire occasionally.

Satine was grateful to be spending time in her family’s old vacation home. It had been unoccupied for almost a decade, and when the royal family had visited, the reason they did was because it was so entirely off the map. The home reminded her of her chambers in the capitol more than the other grimy hideaways she had typically had to occupy over the past few months. She was not haughty enough to reject any place that was regarded as safe, but she had grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle. She could almost pretend she wasn’t on the run during her stay and would revel in it while she could.

As she exited her room, she gave the guard that was posted at her door a nod. She returned it with a “Morning, Your Grace.” She had managed to convince Ben and Qui to call her by her first name, certainly because they weren’t used to dealing with monarch-style rulers—the guards were hopeless, however.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee piqued Satine’s senses. Qui and Ben were chatting over their mugs when she walked into the kitchen, moving to pour a glass for herself. Ben appeared to be browsing NPR on his smartphone. They greeted her with warm smiles—Ben looked a little weary. _I wonder why._

“Good morning, gentleman.” She made sure to address Qui first—he was the head reporter, after all. “I rest assured your sleeping arrangements were adequate?”

“Indeed, Satine. It very nearly feels like a vacation—I just wish it were under less tumultuous circumstances.”

“That makes two of us.” Satine smiled—finally, she was in contact with a pair of people with a sense of humor. Even the conversations with her sister felt stiff and unnatural.

“Make it three,” Ben added. Their eyes met and Satine felt her heart drop a little, though she had enough experience putting on a mask that no one would have been able to tell. Ben, on the other hand, was a little more conspicuous. His coffee became unusually interesting as he broke their eye contact.

“We’re ready when you are, Miss.” Qui finished up the last of his coffee. “Excuse me while I go and gather our supplies.” He went to the sink, politely washed his cup, then headed back down to hallway to his room.

“How did you sleep?” Satine asked in the most innocuous tone she could muster.

“Quite comfortably, once I settled in,” Ben said. He contemplated his next sentence for a moment. “I had a lot on my mind, if we are being completely honest.”

“Who said we were being completely honest?” Satine smirked. “What have you done to earn my trust?”

“Enough, apparently.” Ben seemed to take satisfaction in his quip and how it ever so slightly jarred her. She set herself up for that one. He was right, of course—she did not often speak the way she spoke last night. She had even cursed in his presence. “I hope you slept just as well.”

Satine wasn’t sure if he meant it in seriousness or jest. Ben had a way of throwing her off already, and she was quite beginning to like their conversations. He had the audacity to speak to her as he would speak to anyone else. It was refreshing. She had been up rather late. “Indeed.”

Qui emerged from his room as they were finishing up. Satine took Ben’s cup and washed it herself. A quiet challenge.

“Where would you like to begin our interview?” Qui asked, camera bag over one shoulder and recording equipment over the other.

“It’s a lovely day today.” The sunlight was shining through the large windows along the sides and front of the house. “Why not outside?”

“Sounds great,” Qui said. “I’ll go ahead and get set up, then. Ben?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll be out in a moment, I need to grab my laptop.” Ben was quite dashing when he smiled, in his neatly pressed button up, expertly coiffed hair, and clean face. He eyes were a unique shade of grey. She couldn’t help but check him out as he left down the hall with the utmost subtlety. She didn’t often get to see handsome men around her age, and she was beginning to think that he knew that.

A gunshot and a shout drew her from her lewd thoughts. The horror and panic began to rise as she heard more shouting and commotion. Her worst fears had been realized. Qui burst through the front door along with several guards. His camera was still slung over his shoulder. “Where’s Ben? We have to go _now._ ”

“Wha—” Satine did not have nearly enough time to process what was happening. A guard grabbed her arm and began dragging her to the back door. Shattering glass—a scream. The guard that had her arm fell, wailing in pain. Blood was spreading across the hardwood. She was mesmerized by the growing scarlet pool. Qui grabbed the gun that she had been holding. Some of her blood was now smeared on his hands. “ _Move._ ”

Satine noted that Qui was calm. She wondered what he had seen and done that prepared him to be so damn _calm_ in this moment. She didn’t have time to wonder. She had to move. She dipped into her room on the way out to grab a bag that she had been told to prepare in a case such as this. A worst-case-scenario bag. This was worst case. Ben darted from his room with a backpack on. He was brandishing a pocket knife. She almost started laughing hysterically at the image.

They were outside. She heard the screeching of tires and felt sweat beading on her face. “That way.” She pointed at an almost undetectably trodden path on the far side of the clearing. A crash, a sputtering engine. Should they try to get to a vehicle? More gunshots, more screaming. _No. We have to flee._

The door to the back porch flung open with a bang when they were halfway to the tree line. A large man with dark eyes and a black bandana covering his mouth stood in the doorway, a large gun in his hand. She didn’t know what kind, and she didn’t care to find out. He was aiming it at her.

Qui whipped around and took a shot—it grazed his leg. The bandana man redirected his attention to her bearded protector. He seemed almost unphased by his newly acquired wound. Ben yanked her by the wrist towards their destination. In the back of her mind, she wished that hadn’t been their first physical interaction. She saw Qui take another shot before sprinting to catch up to them. A bullet whizzed by. The gunshots were ringing in her ears. _What a terrible sound._

Footsteps pounded behind them. A lanky woman was running closely behind the male bounty hunter. She had short, red hair and a scowl on her face. Qui took one more shot—it landed on the woman’s shoulder. She fell, and the man took a few more paces before letting out an exasperated snarl and doubling back to crouch beside her, but not before shooting wildly at them twice in succession. A third figure with a bloody sword in his hand and a gun on his hip caught up with them. Then, they were out of sight as they disappeared in the safety of the forest.

To Satine’s horror, she saw a bloodstain blooming on Qui’s bicep. When he noticed her look of despair, he shook his head and motioned for her to keep moving. Ben still had a firm grip around her wrist. It was starting to hurt, so she pulled away. He immediately released it and gave her a look that said, _I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you._ She hoped her look said that it was okay.

The sounds of the disaster behind them had faded. The muted footfalls of their running against the brush, some bugs chirping, and the rustling of the trees in the wind was all that could be heard. She felt a tightness in her chest. She couldn’t keep it up—she had never had to run like this. She was on the run, sure, but there had never been such a close call. A stabbing pain was tearing her sides apart. “We have to stop.”

She doubled over, gasping for air. She threw up her coffee and thanked the silent gods she hadn’t eaten anything earlier. Ben and Qui had taken a few more strides before they registered she’d stopped. She fell to the ground, a million thoughts racing through her head, yet unable to pin down a single one. She was in shock. Not even twenty minutes ago, she was bantering and enjoying the coffee that her body had just expelled. And now she was on her hands and knees in the middle of the woods, staring at a pool of her own vomit, with two strangers as her only company—one of whom was bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound. _How could this happen?_


	4. Finding Berries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Airplane snacks aren't a full meal, unfortunately.

Ben’s wide eyes focused on the scarlet stain creeping across Qui’s sleeve. He thought he should do something about it, do something to help, do _anything_ , but his limbs were numb, his face was numb, his mouth could have been sewn shut for how well it was working. Satine was shaking and vomiting in the dirt. He was useless. His hand was still wrapped, white-knuckled, around his pocket knife, what a joke.

Qui started taking his shirt off. He hissed in pain. The noise snapped Ben out of it. He stepped closer to his mentor. “What can I do?” His voice was small. Weak. Terrified.

“Tie it around the wound. Quickly. We need to get off this path. If I know anything about bounty hunters, they won’t give up.” Ben pondered whether this was real-world experience or if it had been gathered from television and movies. Qui tried to smile but it turned into a grimace. He shook the shirt with his good hand at Ben. “Quickly.”

He fumbled a bit, but he got it tied. Satine was still on the ground, staring through it. “Satine. We have to move. Come on.” He put his hand on her back as a gentle attempt to rouse her from her trance. “Please, we have to go.”

She snapped her head up, shrugging his hand off of her as she stood. She nodded. Silent. Qui led the way through the brush. He exuded an aura of confidence. He was good at that. Ben knew just as well as he did, though, that Qui had no idea where he was going. Still, somehow, it was reassuring. Ben let Satine walk in front of him so he could keep an eye out behind them. She was unresponsive. The knees of her soft blue jumpsuit had been stained with dirt—a few spatters of blood marked one of the sleeves.

He prayed to whatever existential force that surrounded them that they were not being followed. His day had changed its course so quickly he had whiplash. He did not feel at all qualified to be trekking through an unfamiliar forest in a country he had been in for less than a full twenty-four hours with the fugitive leader of the entire nation. Thinking about the way this trip had gone so terribly awry nearly made him burst into a fit of tearful giggles. Ben brought his thumbnail to his lips. He had been resolute enough to give up nail-biting years ago, but it was the only thing he could think to do to curb the panic that was clawing at his insides, desperate to make an exit.

After walking well into the late afternoon in complete silence and a few destroyed fingernails later, the sound of rushing water interrupted his racing thoughts. “Do you—”

Qui hushed him. Apparently, his two travelling companions had noticed it before he had. They were both listening intently to try to pinpoint where it was coming from.

“That way.” Satine spoke for the first time in hours and pointed ahead, slightly to the right. Qui nodded in agreement. Ben _was_ entirely useless. They began moving again and within a few minutes they had stumbled upon a waterfall. Upon closer inspection, there was a cave behind it. There was a sliver just wide enough that they could slip through without getting soaked.

There was not much light available. The sun was hanging low in the sky, and all they had was a dim orange glow flickering through the cascade of water. He heard a _shhk_ noise and noticed Satine had retrieved a fire-starter from the backpack she was carrying. There was a pile of firewood already stacked near the entrance of the cave. They weren’t the first to occupy this spot. He did hope that they were the only ones there at the moment, though. “I though it was dumb that I even had one of these—who’d have thought fifteen of the most skilled members of the Royal Guard wouldn’t stand a chance against those three psychopaths.” She got a few sparks, but her hands were shaking terribly. She dropped the starter.

“I’ve got it,” Ben offered. “Let me.” He could tell that Satine’s pride almost got in the way of handing it over, but she conceded.

He hadn’t used a fire-starter since his enrollment in Cub Scouts when he was 9. His parents always valued self-sufficiency. Suiting, as they had passed away not long after. He was relieved that he got it on the third try. The fire crackled to life, eating at the small sprigs of brush nestled beneath the larger pieces of wood. It caught after a few minutes. The warmth was welcome. With the setting sun it was only a matter of time before the cold really began to creep in. It dawned on him how woefully unprepared they were for the situation. All he had in his backpack was his laptop, a few airplane snacks that he never got to, a notebook, some pens, and a cardigan. At least the airplane snacks were a little useful. He felt his stomach grumble with curiosity as he eyed the pack of sea salt cashews nestled in one of the pockets. None of the three of them had eaten a thing all day.

Satine procured a small first aid kit and Ben thanked the overly-cautious people that insisted she have an emergency bag. Turned out they were just cautious enough. He helped Qui take the blood-soaked shirt off his arm. Qui tried his best to hide his discomfort, but the pain he was feeling bled through his toughened exterior. He grunted, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment. Satine crouched beside them.

She had a few bottles of water in the back and cracked one open. She poured a bit around the wound, washing some of the blood away. The bleeding had nearly stopped. It was just a graze, but the red smeared around the opening made it look horrific. The flesh was torn horizontally across his upper bicep. “This is next part is going to sting,” she warned. She sprayed a generous amount of disinfectant on the area and Qui let out a gentle hiss. “I don’t think it’s deep enough to need stitches,” Satine said. “We just need to make sure to keep it clean.”

Her long, pale fingers unrolled some gauze. Her hands were no longer shaking. Perhaps she had come to better terms with what was happening—some of Ben’s own fear was melting away in their small, warm safe haven. He didn’t feel any less screwed, but the feeling of being watched and pursued was no longer screaming at the forefront of his thoughts. She wrapped the gauze around Qui’s arm, trying to be as gentle as possible. “You need to keep it elevated for the time being, to stop the blood flow completely. Then it can start to heal. Try not to submerge it in any water, either.”

“Treated a lot of gunshot wounds?” Ben asked, looking at Qui’s neatly-wrapped arm.

“Just common sense first-aid, really,” she said, a twinge of sarcasm in her voice. Ben hadn’t meant it as condescending—she was just good at twisting words. Always on the defense. She had to be, he supposed. She offered Qui some aspirin. “Should help with the swelling, too.”

“I usually try to avoid taking medicine, just like I prefer to not resort to violence, but sometimes it is necessary to forego one’s principles.” He accepted the two small pills and used the water she handed him to wash them down. “Thank you, Miss. I appreciate your expertise.”

“I appreciate you saving my life.” She busied herself putting all her supplies back in her bag, avoiding eye contact. “Both of you. Neither of you were obligated to help me, but you put your lives on the line to help me escape. For that, I’ll always be grateful.”

“Not sure we had much of a choice. It was an act of self-preservation as well. They surely were not looking for prisoners.” Qui readjusted his seating position so he could elevate his elbow on a nearby rock. “We got lucky that that particularly frightening-looking man stopped to help the injured woman. Do you know why?”

“She’s their tracker, from my understanding. Without her, they wouldn’t be able to find us later, and we were already quickly getting out of their reach. It should take them a little while to recover—at least a couple days, while we figure out what our next move will be. You hit her in the shoulder quite nicely.”

Qui nodded. His gaze was steel. Ben knew that he was not a fan of hurting people, but he did have strong principles when it came to right and wrong—and in this case, violence was their only chance at survival. That didn’t mean that it wouldn’t keep him up that night. 

Ben offered him one of his snacks, which he graciously accepted. He looked so weary—so much blood loss with nothing in his system had to be taking its toll on his consciousness. He also offered Satine one.

“No thank you,” she said, sitting cross-legged by the fire. The flames were bouncing off her face, darkening the shadows cast by her sharp features.

He pleaded with her. “You have to eat something. We can go scavenge or whatever in a little bit, we’ll have to, but you need to have some energy to do that. Please.”

She begrudgingly accepted the pack of trail mix. “Thank you.” She offered him a strained smile. The makeup around her eyes was smeared a little.

He sat down beside her, distancing himself a little, opening the bag of cashews that gotten his stomach rumbling earlier. He glanced back at Qui and realized he had dozed off after eating the beef jerky he had given him. He needed the rest.

“To think, a few hours ago I was admiring your bum as you left the room, then I started getting shot at.” Ben was surprised at her candidness—he couldn’t help but blush. Endlessly confusing, indeed. She laughed and shook her head. “I apologize for being so forward. It isn’t often I get to enjoy the company of a handsome young man such as yourself. I am regretful for dragging you into this mess.”

He was glad the cave was relatively dark, because he was sure his whole face was glowing red. “It’s a risk we take by doing what we do. I just wish I was a little more helpful. Qui clearly has a little more experience than I do dealing with situations like these, though I really don’t know too much about his past. He stays quiet about it, mostly. I can understand why. This morning is something I would never want to relive.”

Ben heard phantom gunshots and screams as his mind wandered. He shut it down, full-force. He wanted to padlock the memory in a far away corner of his mind and throw away the key. He was almost embarrassed to be laying out his insecurities in front of her, but for some reason, he trusted her—just as she trusted him. Satine let out a heavy exhale through her nose. “I know what you mean.”

Ben glanced back at Qui again—still fast asleep. The sun was falling fast. “We need to find some food before it gets dark. He needs more to eat than beef jerky to keep his strength up.”

Satine agreed. “I’m sure we can find something just outside. We won’t venture far. He should be fine for a few minutes.” She grabbed the gun that was lying beside him and handed to Ben. “I don’t want any part in shooting this thing, and hopefully you won’t have to either.”

He took it from her. It was heavier than it looked. She slung her back over her shoulder and they left the cave. The sun was beginning to drop below the horizon. There was a soft, orange glow blanketing the wilderness. There was a hum of bugs and frogs buzzing in the background. The shadows seemed to be darkening by the second. Ben let Satine lead the way—he was certain she was more familiar with Madalorian plants than he was. Some of the leaves and shrubs were nearly unrecognizable to him. She knelt by a bush and began picking some ripe, cerulean berries, a pocket of her back open at her feet. He eyed the spaces between the trees with suspicion. His hand tightened around the cool metal in his hands. The temperature was continuing to drop, and he hoped they’d be warm enough through the night. He wanted to be close to the crackling fire.

“You can help, you know,” she said, not looking up. He listened and scoped out the area one more time, pretending to know what he was doing—hoping he knew what he was doing—and crouched down beside her. He placed the gun by his side with care.

“Sorry,” he murmured. He plucked a few, placing them in her bag. He felt her move a little closer, and her hand brushed one of his. She was ice cold. He took in a quick breath—undetectable to anyone but the perceptive woman nestling in beside him.

“You’re warm,” she shrugged. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. _Even her profile is gorgeous,_ he thought, admiring the soft slope of her nose and the length of her eyelashes. A few strands of her hair had come free from her braids and fell over her forehead.

“You’re not,” he said. He grabbed one of her hands as she was reaching for another berry. Her skin seemed to glow in the dusky light. Her hand curled into his ever-so-slightly. They didn’t speak for several moments, and she leaned in a little closer. He must really be warm. A thread tugged at his insides—he longed for something. He longed to take Satine to a coffee shop and sit her down and learn what drink she orders and get to know her. He longed for shy smiles, bitten lips, broken eye contact, and subtle blushing. He longed to take her on a walk in Central Park, picking out constellations and talking about their dreams. He longed to explore the chemistry they both knew they already had. He longed to know what she was thinking, too.

“It’s dark. We should go back inside.” She stood, taking her hand back— _was that reluctance?_

“Of course.” He plucked the berry she was going for before he distracted her, and she zipped the pocket up. He was embarrassed. They’d almost died—it was probably just adrenaline making his dick hard. That’s how the human body responded to fear, right? And it was crude of him to think she thought that way about him. She had lost friends. The last thing on her mind was anything to do with him, or his dick. The cold crept back in, numbing the warmth that being close to her had given him. It was as if she had stolen it.

He followed a few steps behind her. Still, nothing to be heard but the chirping of the nature surrounding them.


	5. Longing for Homemade Pastries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a less-than-comfortable night of sleep, the trio has to decide their next step.

Satine knelt to wash the berries off in the pool of water that the waterfall was crashing into. Ben stood watch above her. She wondered what was going through his mind. “These berries are quite rich in protein, believe it or not, and quite filling, too. They taste similar to guava, which you’re probably more familiar with. My mother used to make the most wonderful tart out of them.”

“Sounds lovely. Perhaps I’ll get to try it someday.” Ben smiled at the idea, the moonlight highlighting his features.

“Unfortunately, I’ve never been much of a cook, and my mother is no longer around to make it. My sister can make it almost as well, though. So perhaps you might.” The image of him sitting around a dinner table with her and what remained of her family enjoying the dessert seemed far-fetched, and perhaps it was—but she swore to herself if they made it out of the shit that she’d gotten them into, she would make it happen. Qui would be invited.

“Is that an invitation?” He asked, almost teasingly. It was as if he read her mind.

“I suppose so.” She stood and walked back towards their safe haven’s entrance. She heard his soft footfalls trailing behind her. The skin of her hands still tingled—both from the chill of the water she had washed the berries in, and his touch. She had liked being close to him. She didn’t know what it meant, in this time and in this place, but she craved a connection with him, in a way she never had before. She didn’t know him, but she wanted to.

Qui was still fast asleep. He was even gently snoring. The cave was a few degrees warmer than outside, which Satine was grateful for. She wished her pack had more than one thin blanket inside it. Ben began gathering firewood a few feet from Qui to build another fire. Neither of them wanted to stir the injured man, but he’d be quite cold in a few hours. She gave Ben the fire starter and he got it crackling happily to life within a few minutes.

He met her at the first fire. “You wouldn’t happen to have a few sleeping bags in that magic pack of yours, would you?” There was sarcastic hope in his voice.

“Just this,” she said, pulling the thin, tightly rolled blanket out of the bag. “And I think he deserves it more than we do.” She motioned towards Qui. Ben gave her an affirming noise. She unrolled it and moved to place it over him. He was still sitting in an upright position and she tried her best to tuck it over his shoulders. It would have to do.

She saw Ben reach into her bag for the berries. He popped one in his mouth and hummed in satisfaction. She grabbed a few and went back to Qui and placed them on the empty beef jerky package at his side, in case he woke up in the night hungry. “Bet they’d be even better coated and sugar and baked into a pastry.”

“You got that right,” she snorted, enjoying a few herself when she rejoined him. She laid back, resting her head on a rock, which was not as soft as she was hoping it would be. “This is going to be a long, long night.”

“You bet,” Ben agreed. They watched and listened to the hiss and pop of the fire. “How are you feeling?”

“That’s a big question,” Satine scoffed. She didn’t always mean to come across as so confrontational. Truthfully, she had no idea _how_ she was feeling. She was wondering what they would do in the morning. If she remembered correctly, there were a few rural villages in the surrounding area. They could probably lay low for a bit, try to get back to the center city. That would be difficult, though, and incredibly dangerous. She was also terribly exhausted, but her mind was racing. She sat up, closed her eyes, and pulled her hair out of the braid it was in, stretching the hair tie around her wrist for safe-keeping. She had a fleeting urge to cut it all off. Maybe she would. “I feel guilty.”

Ben exhaled deeply. “Qui and I both knew what we sign up for any time we travel somewhere new. I don’t know about him, but this is just the first time the risk became a reality for me, that’s all. It’s difficult to take in and process. I like my routines, I like having a job to do, and a finish line. There’s no finish line here.”

Satine felt her face crumble a little. She was beginning to crack under the pressure that these long weeks had been putting on her. She was so, so _tired._ She was too young to be this tired.

He must have sensed the darkening of her energy. He seemed to be rather good at picking up on that. “Please, don’t blame yourself. None of this was your fault, and you are not responsible for what happens to us, or the people that we had to leave behind. They were there because they wanted to be there, and we are here because we want to be here—we want you to be safe. We didn’t know we would end up becoming the Duchess of Mandalore’s sole bodyguards, but,” he said as he moved closer, bridging the gap between their two huddled frames. “I can’t say I’ve ever met another Duchess I’d rather be protecting.”

She gave him the short laugh he’d baited out of her. He was close enough to elbow. “Well, if you’d met more than one Duchess, I might feel a little better about that.”

“I could’ve met a hundred Duchesses,” he said. Satine knew that wasn’t true, but he _was_ making her feel better—less of the architect of their misfortune, at least in that moment.  

“Well, I suppose I should attempt to find a more comfortable-looking spot to lie down.” He punctuated his sentence with a yawn. “Maybe attempt to get some shut-eye to prep for whatever we’ll face tomorrow.”

He moved to stand, but she grabbed his hand. She didn’t want him to be any further away from her than he was at that moment. “Stay here. Please.”

He raised his eyebrows, though he didn’t seem entirely surprised. _Bastard._ She shrugged. “It’ll be warmer if we lie next to each other.”

“Yeah,” he said. A sad half-smile adorned his face. She grabbed her backpack and laid it under her head as she laid down and kicked her shoes off. She was glad she decided to wear flats that morning. He followed suit, lying next to her, but letting her stay closest to the fire. They laid in a heavy silence, staring at the rugged ceiling. Her back was already beginning to twinge with soreness. She wished she had rested better the previous night, when she had the chance to enjoy the comfort of a bed and a plush duvet. Ben’s breathing got heavier and steadier, his eyes shut. Their shoulders were touching. Her mind lingered there until it finally drifted off to a tense slumber.

Satine woke from a tumultuous dream she couldn’t quite remember. It slipped away as soon as her eyes fluttered open, crusted with sleep. They couldn’t have been out more than a few hours. Her mouth tasted sour—she desperately wanted to brush her teeth already.

She realized she’d rolled over in the night, facing the now-dead fire. Her hips were aching with pain from lying on her side on the hard floor. Ben was cuddled closely behind her, his hand resting on her hip. As uncomfortable as the floor was, his presence made it bearable. She shifted her position and his eyes opened a crack. A sleepy smile adorned his face. It fell as he realized where he was and who he was with. His hand jumped away and he rolled back flat, eyes glued to the ceiling of the cave. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I didn’t hate it.” Her voice was teasing. “Thanks for keeping me warm.”

Qui cleared his throat behind them. He was still sitting where he’d fallen asleep. “Good morning. Thank you for the breakfast, those berries were quite lovely.”

Ben stood up—too quickly. His bones crackled and he grunted. He was young, but that floor would do a number on anyone’s back. Satine stood up a little more leisurely. A few joints still popped, even more when she stretched. “You’re very welcome.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Qui asked her the dreaded question.

“Neither of you would happen to have your mobiles, would you?” Satine asked.

Qui shook his head. “I must have dropped it or left it on the front porch with the rest of my tech. It’s a blur.”

A look of mild horror flashed across Ben’s face. “Nope. Mine’s still on the counter in the kitchen. I have my laptop, but I doubt there’s any Wi-Fi around here.”

“Well, that complicates things a bit,” she sighed, pulling her shoes back on. “It’s unsafe to go back—at least right now. There are some rural communities in the area. Unfortunately, they’re not very technologically advanced. We _were_ working on an initiative to change that, but then the whole on-the-brink-of-a-civil-war thing started. So, as far as short-term plans, we must make it to one of these villages and gather some supplies. Then, we can re-evaluate our situation from there.”

She gathered her things, retrieving the blanket from Qui and rolling it up tight. She scanned the floor of the cave, making sure they weren’t leaving anything important. Ben and Qui were talking in a murmur near the entrance. When she approached them, they fell silent. The look Ben gave her was cautious, for some reason. “Ready?”

Satine nodded. They set out in the same formation they’d arrived in, Qui up front, carrying the gun, her in the middle, and Ben bringing up the rear. They looked rather bedraggled after their rough night of sleep—hair a mess, clothing wrinkled and dirt-stained. Qui was still shirtless. She noted a few scars trailing across his back and arms, more visible in the morning light than they were before.

Along the way, they stopped to eat some more edible plants she found—sharing as much knowledge as she could as they consumed their small snacks. They were avid learners, and she appreciated that they were making the best out of their admittedly terrible situation. “Just in case you ever get lost in the Mandalorian wilderness again for some reason.” They shared a chuckle, though she hoped they’d never have to use their newfound knowledge.

Within an hour or two of their trek, the sound of their footsteps was joined by the sounds of giggling children. There were a few of them playing in a small clearing. They seemed to be playing ‘Monkey in the Middle’, the smallest one being in the middle. Satine thought it sad. They stopped walking, not wanting to scare the children. Satine turned to Ben. “I’m unsure how the village looks upon my rule, so Qui and I will hang back. Ask the children to take you to the village—don’t be creepy. Say you got lost, or something, and are looking to purchase some supplies and a few other things. Here.” She passed him a bundle of paper bills. “Here is some Mandalorian currency. Get what you think we’ll need. A few more medical supplies, a larger pack, a few blankets, some non-perishable food, etcetera.”

Ben looked nervous. She put a reassuring hand on his arm. “You’re a smart guy, you’ve got this—we’ll backtrack a bit. Try to remember your way. We’ll be waiting.”

Satine watched him tentatively pick his way through the brush, towards the giggling children. She hoped he did have this. From where she was, she could barely hear him. The kids looked suspicious—arms crossed, eyebrows pinched. They took a few steps back. She saw him raise his hands and crouch down to their height, opening his posture. The oldest one said something, and she noticed the relief in his limbs as he stood back up. The children turned and led him away. He glanced back, but both she and Qui were hidden away. They disappeared as they moved further through the trees.

Satine sighed,  leaning up against a tree and moving to a seated position. Qui took a seat near her. The bandage on his bicep needed to be replaced. She dug through her bag to find her kit and moved closer to him, setting to work on replacing it.

“Thank you,” Qui said through the wincing. The wound looked better than it had the night before, but it while before it healed completely—and the scar would always remain, adding to the ones he already had. “I see you’ve taken a liking to my apprentice.”

Satine blushed. “He seems like a fine young man.”

“He is,” Qui agreed. She made quick work of re-wrapping his arm. “And you’re a fine young woman, with a lot of responsibility. Don’t let your affections distract you.”

“We’ve known each other for a day, and probably won’t for much longer. We’ll make quick work of getting me back home, I’ll replace your lost equipment, you’ll get your interview, and then you’ll depart and be able to put this fiasco behind you.” She felt her defensive tone rising.

“Ben likes you. I’ve not seen him take to anyone quite like he’s taken to you, and I’ve known him for quite some time. For a man that age, it would be difficult to _not_ be taken with you, but he’s different than most young men. Do what you must, feel what you must, but you both have responsibilities elsewhere, and keep that in mind as you move forward. I was young once, too, and I know the chances of either of you will listening are slim, but I hope you do take heed of my advice in some way. Do not change the course of each other’s lives for an adrenaline-fueled romance that odds tell you will not last.”

Satine felt quite attacked. Perhaps her feelings had onset rather fast—she had been courted before, she had kissed several pairs of lips, but none had given her the thrilling, electric energy she was experiencing. Perhaps it _was_ just the adrenaline—the fear, the danger, her life being at risk and feeling like any moment could be her last. That was probably it, how foolish and selfish of her. Still, her mind wandered back to eating homemade fruit pastries with him at her dining table, and she shoved the thought away. She was a duchess, with a passion for leading a country, and no, an adrenaline-fueled romance could not get in the way of that.

“Thank you.” Satine finished wrapping his arm and retreated to her chosen tree. “You don’t have any romances of your own, do you?”

Qui shook his head, the ghost of a smile dancing on his face. “Once upon a time. In our line of work, it gets complicated.” He didn’t seem to have any intention to elaborate and she didn’t want to press him. He was enigmatic, but wise. She got a reassuring, fatherly vibe from him—just as Ben did, she was sure. She could sense he had seen a lot, most of which he would never share.

They waited quietly for Ben’s return. She sensed she and Qui didn’t have much to say. He seemed to be mediating—his eyes closed, his hands open and resting on the knees of his crossed legs. She felt her stomach rumble. “He should be back soon. I’m sure the village is close; the kids wouldn’t have wandered that far.”

Qui nodded without opening his eyes. He cracked them a few moments later. “I hear footsteps.”

It took at least half a minute longer before she could hear them. Satine was impressed. Ben emerged from between a cluster of trees, a larger, stuffed backpack on his back, and two sleeping bags under his arms. He dropped all of his baggage heavily. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m starving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I’m sorry for the lack of updates. I was in a bad car wreck a week after I published this chapter and I had about two more done that I was ready to post - unfortunately, my laptop was broken in half in the accident and I stupidly did not have any of my files backed up. So this work is on a hiatus right now - I can’t promise when I’ll get back to it, since my life has been a little wild lately, but definitely save it for later. I am in good health, at least. Please stay tuned. :-)

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment letting me know what you think! I haven't written a fic in years so I might be rusty. Ideas/suggestions are always welcome. Thanks for reading.


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